


Cat Communications

by firehawk05



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Cats, Charles Xavier has a Ph.D in Adorable, Charles in a Wheelchair, Charles is a Professor, Erik Has Feelings, Erik is a Sweetheart, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-13
Updated: 2018-08-13
Packaged: 2019-06-26 20:10:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15670431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firehawk05/pseuds/firehawk05
Summary: When he signed the lease on this apartment, Erik had been hoping to set it up as a nice quiet bachelor pad... If only someone had told him his future would be furry, orange and looking at him in a funny way...Very loosely based on this prompt off Tumblr: My cat keeps breaking into your apartment next to mine so I tied a note to its collar to apologize and you write back so we keep exchanging cat notes and you’re pretty funny AU. (From Daily AU @stardust-sketcher)





	Cat Communications

 

When he signed the lease on this apartment, Erik had been hoping to set it up as a nice quiet bachelor pad. He’d done most of it up already in a tasteful, industrial chic aesthetic, with dark grey walls, reclaimed timber furniture and brushed steel and chrome finishes. The original hardwood flooring that came with the apartment, had already been restored to a dark glossy sheen by the owner, so all he really had to do was to add an area rug.

 

The leather sofa had been expensive, but he tried to console himself that at least it was sturdy and hard wearing. Practically an investment.

 

Just to make sure it’d last, he’d gone over it once with a leather conditioner they’d recommended to him in the store.

 

The curtains, however, had been another ... pricey experiment. He had initially been quite taken with the way light filtered through the gauzy fabric, until he realized how bright and stabby the sun could get on lazy weekend mornings.  So he had to compromise by making another set of blackout shades for his bedroom. Unfortunately, it seemed that both sets would require dry cleaning but, he’d sort that out when he eventually got there.

 

The one piece he’d been especially satisfied with was stand lamp he’d commissioned.  A stylish piece, made from re-purposed copper piping and vintage filament light bulbs, now proudly illuminating a corner of his living room.

 

He was quite proud of the stainless steel counters in his kitchen and after some thrift shop scouring, he'd managed to score a couple of heavy bottomed pots and a nice set of matched crockery.  The stuff might have been second hand but it was, at least in his opinion, nice enough to entertain with.

 

Not that he was going to do that.

 

Much.

 

If at all.

 

If he had anything to do with it.

 

Because he was looking forward to a nice quiet bachelor life in his nice quiet bachelor pad.

 

But also because he had projects to do. His immediate to list included putting up the black and white canvas prints he’d sourced off the internet, while longer term projects included acquiring the pieces to furnish the spare room.

 

Time wasn't an issue after all. His current job was stable and hopefully, he’d done the last of his business related travelling a while ago.

 

In other words, Erik was firstly, and quite justifiably, proud of his little place and secondly, actually looking forward a future in which he would be left to his own devices.  If any thing in his life could be said to be approaching perfection, this, he thought, would have to be it.  

 

If a psychic had told him that his future would be furry, orange and looking at him in a funny way he’d probably have told them they were drunk, high or insane.

 

Before brushing them off completely.

 

…

 

The future was furry, orange and looking at him in a funny way.

 

Even from inside the cat carrier, Erik could feel its eyes on him as Emma droned on...

 

“This is his feeder. It’s set to dispense a fixed amount of food at specific intervals. Just remember to top it up at the end of the week.”

 

“This is his water fountain. He doesn't like drinking water from the bowl, so unless you want him drinking directly from your tap, this needs to be plugged in and the water changed every day.”

 

“This is his litter box. You need to scoop it at least once a day or he’ll start making noise.”

 

“This bag contains his scratching post and activity station and this bag contains his toys, Az, be a dear and carry it, along with his feeder, water fountain and litter box and set it up in Erik’s spare room?”

 

Azazel rolls his eyes and lets out a long suffering sigh as he shoulders past Erik laden with bulging bags of cat related paraphernalia.

 

Emma smiles brightly at him once Azazel has staggered off. A smaller package appears as if by magic in her hands. “This is his food. We did extensive research and this brand has the most nutritionally balanced diet for his breed.”  

 

“Emma. That, thing, is clearly not any sort of …”

 

Alex presses his face up against the mesh of the carrier and bares his teeth, hissing.

 

As Erik feels his own lips curl in a snarl of his own, Emma holds up an admonishing finger and shushes them both. As their hackles settle, she continues, “Do not feed him table scraps. They’ll mess with his diet.”  

 

When he scowls, she smiles brightly and continues, “There’s a card with the address of the shop to buy his food when this runs out. He doesn’t like it when his food goes stale so I only buy small quantities at a time.”

 

An even smaller foil sealed pouch materializes. “This is his bag of treats. It is only for special occasions.  He is very smart and he will do anything to get you to give him one. And by anything. I mean literally anything. You must not, under any circumstance, give him more than five a day. Or he will be completely impossible and thoroughly spoiled by the time I’m back.”

 

“Any questions?”

 

Erik levels a glare at her, which is again, blatantly ignored  “Are you done yet?”

 

“It's good that you live on the first floor or I’d have made you mesh your windows. Cats have been known to fall to their deaths when they sneak out the windows of higher floors...”

 

“Good grief Emma, if I knew you and your cat would be such a nuisance I would never have agreed to board it in the first place.”

 

Both Emma and the cat in the box somehow contrive to look offended.

 

“Oh sugar. Alex is just a big softie when you get to know him. Plus if you lock him in the spare room with all his stuff he’s quite happy to stay there all day.”

 

She opens the carrier, picks the ginger colored tabby up and burbles lovingly at it. “Because aren’t you just the sweetest little fluffy orange eunuch.” The cat stares back, unblinking and unimpressed. Sunlight catches and glints off metal studs in its black leather collar.

 

“Anyhow. I’ll be back in a month to pick him up. Have fun.”

 

And with that, Emma, with one last pat to Alex’s head, turns and flounces out of his apartment motioning for Azazel to follow her, leaving him wondering what he’s gotten himself into.

 

Until the Alex stretches nonchalantly and sinks ten tiny claws into his trouser clad leg.

 

“Arrgh!  Stop that!  Bad kitty!”

 

More tiny pinpricks of pain blossom as Alex, undeterred by his outburst climbs steadily upwards, clinging tenaciously to his limb. Erik sighs. It's going to be a long month.

 

…

 

On the first day, Erik comes home fully expecting mayhem. Instead, he is pleasantly surprised to find Alex perched on the top platform of his cat tree fast asleep. He’s so relieved that he doesn’t even mind having to scoop stinky clumps out of the litter box and refill the water fountain.

 

Little did he know that the trouble would start a few days later…

 

…

 

On Thursday, a furious Erik walks stiffly into the office, flops down in his cubicle and glares at his screen. A moment later, Angel pops her head around the corner, and picks a strand of ginger fur off his black turtleneck.

 

“What happened this time?”

 

“Seriously, Angel. Yesterday, when I got home Alex was sitting on the kitchen counter drinking from the tap. Then, when I yelled at him to stop, he looked at me and nudged the dish drainer, with all my cups in it, off the counter.  I spent an hour cleaning up.”

 

Erik leans back in his chair and groans at the ceiling.  “I swear. That cat has an attitude problem.”

 

“I mean, I already put up with him peeing in the corners, shredded canvases and cat fur on my clothes,” He continues, his pitch increasing, “what I don’t understand is how he’s getting out of the room.”

 

“Why don’t you set up a webcam or something.  I’m sure it would make great YouTube material.”

 

“Gah. Fine. It's not like I’m ever home long enough to catch him doing it.”

 

…

 

Charles comes home to find Raven sprawled on his couch, smiling at her phone.  The television is on in the background, but as usual, she’s not watching it.

 

“Cat videos again? Don’t you ever get tired of that stuff?”

 

“Charles. Perfect timing!” Raven squeals excitedly, waving her phone at him “You have to see what Angel sent me. It's exactly the sort stuff people post online, except that the person whom she got it from will murder her if he finds out she shared it.”

 

Curiosity piqued, Charles reaches for the phone and peers at the dark grainy video that someone has captioned “Prison break ep 1.”

 

It shows the corridor outside a room. The room door is closed.  Soft barely audible mewling sounds can be heard from the inside. Suddenly, there’s a muffled thud and scrabbling noises.  The door handle starts to creak downwards and the door begins to pivot.

 

As Charles reminds himself to keep breathing, a ginger cat pops its head out through the newly opened door.  

 

It stops to clean itself and then, as if realizing it’s being watched, pauses and jumps onto the counter, heading towards the camera.

 

The last frame is of a pink paw snapping towards the lens before the image shakes and blacks out.

 

“Good grief.” He doesn’t know whether to be amazed or appalled.  Then he rewinds the video and stares again at the cat’s markings.

 

“Hey.  Isn’t that Emma’s cat?”

 

“She’s probably foisted him on someone to look after while she’s gone.”  Raven says absently while tapping out a reply to someone else on her phone,  “Bali, I think. From the photos she posts. Somewhere tropical at least. I wish I were as lucky…”

 

“Oh. I see. Well. I guess all said cat keeper has to do is lock the door. That should hold him.”

 

Something seems familiar about the layout of the apartment but he can’t quite put his finger on it.

 

Raven rewinds the video and stares at the opening frames calculatingly. Then the corners of her mouth twitch upwards in a smirk.

 

“Wanna bet? Ten bucks says Alex is smart enough to get out of a locked room. It can go into my holiday fund.”

 

“I have a bad feeling about how this is going to go.” Charles mutters as he sees her vulpine grin, “Don’t you have, like a job or something? Instead of always hitting your poor older brother up for cash…”

 

“It’s just a bit of fun.  You should go out more. At least, you’d be less stuffy.”

 

Charles seems to consider this, “If I spent more time and money partying, I’d have less money to spare my holiday deprived freeloading sister. Oh wait. That sounds like a plan.”  He doesn’t quite manage to dodge her playful punch aimed at him.

 

“Ow.”

 

“Ow yourself. Your arm is bloody hard.” Raven grouses, pretending to scowl at him.  “By the way, you still have that camera from way back?”

 

“You’re on. Sure, go ahead and take it. Charles smiles ruefully, If you can find it.”

 

…

 

“Here’s the camera. I bet you can’t get him to set it up though.”

 

Angel arches an eloquent eyebrow at her as she takes the package.  “Darling. With Erik, it’s all about timing…”

 

...

 

When a haggard Erik stalks into work with claw marks on his neck a few days later, Angel seizes the opportunity to smiles sweetly at him.

 

“Is Alex misbehaving again?”

 

“It’s locked and he’s still getting out. I’ll be damned if I know how though. It’s like he takes a perverse pleasure in disabling the recording devices…”

 

Angel grins and hands him the rugged looking camera. “Lock the door and set this up outside.”  Then she gestures to his neck, saying “do I want to know?”

 

Erik groans, muttering. “No. Don’t ask.”

 

…

 

A couple of days later, Charles gets home from the university to find a smug Raven curled up on his couch, smirking evilly at her phone.

 

“You lose. Pay up.”

 

“Not so fast. Show me… oh.”

 

A phone is held out in front of him. It shows a video of a familiar ginger paw reaching out through the gap below a very familiar door. Moments later a very familiar head pops through the gap…

 

“He’s not going to…oh.”

 

It only takes a moment before the rest of the cat oozes through the gap before fluffing up on the other side of the door.

 

“What the... ?” Charles sputters, torn between concern and admiration. For the cat.  Good grief.

 

“Ha. Pay up.”

 

“Oh fine.” He grumbles as he hands over his money and Raven flops back onto the couch, delighted.

 

“Want to bet on what Alex will do next?”

 

“Ha. I’m sure he’s a lovely boy. He’s probably just bored, cooped up in a room all day…”

 

…

 

“How can he possibly be bored? He has like every conceivable toy that the cat-loving geniuses of retail can possibly come up with in there!”

 

Erik’s voice perilously close to a wail. “Why does he have to throw up on the rug. Or shred the toilet paper? Or for that matter, why does he sometimes take it into his head to run across my face when I’m sleeping at night?”

 

“Maybe it’s his way of saying that likes you.” Angel murmurs. “Or maybe he’s challenging you for the coveted title of Asshole of the year.”  

 

The sound carries surprisingly well in the early morning silence of the office.  

 

Somewhere from the intern side of the cubicle farm, someone who sounds a lot like Sean, chokes on his coffee.

 

Erik rolls his eyes and tilts his head back and snarls at the office ceiling. “I heard that! Don’t you have work to do?”

 

Arguing with Angel, would probably have degenerated into an all out unsatisfying snark fest anyway. And after all the years working with her…

 

Erik resists the temptation to unleash his wrath on the next unsuspecting junior and instead focuses his distilled rage on the person who kicked off this nightmare.

 

“I m going to kill Emma when she gets back.” He mutters murderously to himself. “Slowly and painfully… I am going to kill her as soon as I catch up with her.”

 

She might not be able to hear him but at least it makes him feel marginally better. Because it’s always better to have a plan.

 

…

 

\- Somewhere in Bali -

 

Thin gauzy curtains flutter in a balmy breeze. The moonlight glints off the waves which lap rhythmically on the shore.

 

In the darkness, Emma stirs briefly, turning over once on silky sheets in the luxuriously oversized canopy bed.

 

For a fleeting instant, a frown creases her brow. Then she drifts back into an untroubled sleep, a secret smile on her lips.

 

…

 

There’s a plaintive meow from outside Charles’ window. When he looks out, he realizes the ordinarily overgrown flower bed, in which crocuses have resolutely refused to blossom despite his best intentions, have finally, if unexpectedly, sprouted an orange and white striped tabby.

 

He recognizes the markings from the video, even if the distinctive engraved metal tag on its studded collar didn't’ quite obviously proclaim it as “property of Emma Frost”.

 

“Oh. Hello there. I thought you’d might be lodging nearby. It's a small blessing that I don’t have classes today, even if I have quite a lot of marking to do.”

 

The cat meows again, a tad impatiently.

 

“Do you want to come in then?  Wait a while.”

 

The cat paces up and down in the flowerbed as Charles locks his chair, leans forward and after some straining manages to lever the window of his ground floor apartment open.

 

Once the window has creaked open as far as Charles can get it, Alex leaps onto the sill and steps into the apartment daintily, looking around.

 

Somehow, Charles feels an inexplicable need to apologize for the

mess.

 

“I know it isn’t Emma’s place but…”

 

He’s interrupted when the window shudders and begins to slide creakily downwards. This causes Alex to make a flying leap into the relative safety of Charles lap.

 

Once safely ensconced there, he gives Charles a look of pure betrayal.

 

“I’m sorry but it’s an old apartment. I can’t help it. Don’t destroy my clothes, please?”

 

Slightly mollified, Alex climbs back onto the sill, plops himself down and starts cleaning his face.

 

“I don’t suppose I can get you anything? Water? I’m sure I read somewhere that cats are lactose intolerant.”

 

He holds out a tentative hand to the cat who sniffs it gently and then deigns to allow him to scratch behind its ears.

 

“I need to get on with some stuff, but if you want you’re welcome to sit there and do whatever you need to do. Don't mind me.”

 

…

 

He gets almost halfway through the pile before a small orange paw bats at his arm.

 

Alex, sits up, stretching luxuriantly, before climbing into Charles’ lap.

 

“Ok. Sure. Sit where ever you like.”

 

Tiny claws prick through his shirt as Alex scrambles up onto his shoulder.

 

“Hey. Stop that.”

 

A rough tongue pokes into his ear, sending a shiver down his back. Alex yowls in protest then quiets as Charles relaxes before starting to lick his hair into place. Charles' hair that is.

 

“Good grief.” Charles flicks his eyes ruefully at the pile of work on the table, trying his best not to move his head too much lest he dislodge the cat nibbling on his fringe.  

 

“Ok. Maybe I need a break too. Let’s go see what we have in the kitchen.”

 

“But first.  Please come down?  You’re going to groom me bald.”

 

…

 

After polishing off some leftover roast turkey, Alex jumps up onto the windowsill and paws at the glass.

 

“Going already? Ok. Let me get that for you.”

 

…

 

Erik pauses outside his apartment, hand on the doorknob, alert and slightly worried. What mischief would Alex have gotten up to today?

 

He opens the door cautiously and switches on the lights. Everything seems in place. For once.

 

He first pops his head into his bedroom and notes with pleasure the absence of cat fur on his pillow. He throws open his cupboards suddenly and notes again the distinct lack of urine in the corners.

 

He returns to the living room and scrutinizes the couch for new claw marks. Which happily, he does not find.

 

On entering Alex’s room, he’s surprised to find the cat perched on his cat tree, grooming himself. A cursory sweep around the room doesn’t reveal anything out of place.

The relief he feels is so great he fails to notice that the window overlooking the garden is, ever so slightly, ajar.

 

“Good boy Alex!”

 

The cat pauses, gives him an inscrutable stare, then returns to cleaning its belly.

 

That is, until he breaks out the treat bag. Which gets Alex fawning shamelessly all over him.

 

“Good grief. I see what Emma meant. Ok. That’s enough. No more.  I said no more.”

 

Alex leans heavily against his leg, as if forbidding him to leave.

 

“Mobbing me for a treat isn’t going to work.” Erik says, alternately amused and exasperated.

 

The cat leans harder purring affectionately.

 

“Ok. One more. But that’s it.”

 

…

 

Charles is startled out of restless sleep by a plaintive yowl and the sound of scrabbling outside his window.

 

He fumbles the lights on and curses when he sees a familiar ginger cat sitting this time in his planter box.

 

“This really isn't a good time Alex. I have work tomorrow.”

 

The cat cries again. In the night, its eyes are mostly pupil.

 

“I hope you’re not here to eat. Because this kitchen is closed.” Charles mutters, flapping at the cat trying to make some sort of shooing motion that it might obey, “Can you go home?”

 

The cat is unmoved. As it opens its mouth to wail, Charles capitulates, holding both hands up placatingly.

 

“You’d better come in then. Before you wake the neighbors. Wait. Please.”

 

As he transfers himself into his chair, he wonders what he’s gotten himself into.

 

Even as he levers the window open with a grunt of effort to let the cat in, and wedges it open with a handy hardcover book which he never really liked anyway, the misgivings don’t quite fade.

 

“I told you. I don’t have anything to feed you. So don’t get your hopes up…”

 

The cat makes a bee line for his bed and curls up on the pillow, purring contentedly. It also leaves little brown paw prints in its wake.

 

“Oh. Right. Well. I was going to have to change the sheets at some point.” Charles reaches out to stroke the cat bemusedly and the purring intensifies.

 

“Ok. But you are not to hog the blankets. Good grief. I’m talking to a cat. What has my life become.”

 

…

 

In the morning, after the best sleep he’s had since the accident, Charles wakes feeling rested and content.

 

Alex has slipped out in the night. Presumably to return to his erstwhile keeper.

 

The spot where Alex was sleeping, as marked by a few stray ginger hairs, is still warm.

 

Oh well. Time to get up.

 

...

 

“Is Emma back yet? How come I don’t hear you griping about Alex…”

 

“No she isn’t. And Alex seems better behaved now. At least he isn’t sleeping in my wardrobe. Or leaving me half dead little presents…”

 

..

 

“For me?” Charles looks at the limp mouse, dangling from the cat’s jaws like a comically over sized mustache, and grins broadly while reaching to scratch behind Alex’s ears.

 

“What a clever boy.  You shouldn't have.”

 

...

 

“Huh. Maybe he’s found someone else.”

 

“No chance. I’ve locked the door and blocked the gap. He is definitely not getting out of there.”

 

…

 

“You sure the person you’re living with is ok with you joining me for lunch? Don't answer that. Arrgh. That tickles. Stop climbing me.”

 

“Anyway. I got this from the pet shop.” Charles peers at the ingredient list “It’s supposed to be beef.  Don't look at me like that. They said it was good for adult cats. Organic and stuff. What. You don't like it?”

 

After giving the brown lumps in the bowl one final disdainful sniff, Alex pads over and noses at the wrapper of Charles roast beef sandwich curiously. Then he chirps at Charles, just as he’s about to take a bite of his own lunch.

 

“I’m sure you’re not supposed to eat this.”

 

The yowls become more insistent.

 

“It’s probably too salty. Come on. Eat your beef chunks. Good boy.”

 

With a graceful bound, Alex jumps into his lap and stretches upwards, both paws reaching out to claw at the sandwich.

 

“Good grief. Emma will have my head. Ok ok. You win. But, let me at least wash off the salt first?”

 

…

 

“He’s not even really eating his food. I haven’t had to top the feeder up in days now.”

 

“He’s definitely buttering up someone else,” Angel’s skepticism practically drips off her words,  “Cats. You can’t trust them. There are articles online about one cat keeping up to four families of human…”

 

“Maybe he’s on a diet? He can’t be that active in the room so maybe he’s not hungry.” Erik pauses,

 

“Or maybe he’s pining for Emma.”

 

They both pause, considering the likelihood of that particular scenario occurring.

 

Then they both shake their heads in unison.

 

“He’s two timing you.” Angel chortles gleefully, “You’re being cheated on. By a cat.”

 

“Diet. Definitely.”

 

“Want to bet?  Ten bucks says I’m right. And I’ll never let you live it down...”

 

“You’re on.”

 

…

 

The cab driver raises his eyebrow at Charles as he maneuvers his powered chair into the vehicle.

 

“Same place?”

 

“Yes thank you Darwin.”

 

“She must be one lucky woman to have you come back to eat lunch with her every day.”

 

“Oh no.” Charles flushes. “It's not quite like that at all.”

 

“Oh right. My bad. One lucky guy?”

 

“Oh dear. Actually. There’s a cat who’s been coming to my place for lunch for the last few days. So I need to …”

 

“You know there are these electronic feeders right…”

 

“But you see.” Charles sputters as he tries to explain himself, “He’s not actually MY cat…”

 

“Does he come when you call him?”

 

“Yes…”

 

“And sleep on your bed?”

 

“Er. Well there was that one time…”

 

“And I’m going to guess he has a bowl at your place.” Darwin eyes his regular calculatingly.  “And I’m probably going to go so far as to say the bowl probably has his name on it?”

 

Then he catches sight of the foil wrapped packet of cat food poking out of Charles’ bag. “And you buy food for him…”

 

“Ok. Yes. I see where you think you’re going but its really not what you think…”

 

Darwin sighs as he pulls up outside the apartment block. “Prof. I hate to say this. But he’s definitely your cat.”

 

…

 

“Ok. That’s it. You can't keep eating my food. You’ll get fat. Although I’ not sure what that’s supposed to say about me.”  Alex eyes him inscrutably.

 

“Anyway. I’m writing your keeper a note.”

 

Alex yowls softly and bats at Charles when he tries to affix the note to his collar.

 

“And you are to take this to him. No trying to rub or scratch it it off. Good boy. It’s just a letter to find out what you normally eat.”

 

Alex shakes himself violently as if trying to rid himself of the ticklish thing on his neck. Charles holds his breath as the cat bounds around bucking wildly. He starts breathing again when Alex finally gives up and jumps onto his shoulder to groom.

The note remains paper clipped to his collar.

 

“You wouldn't want Emma to sue me for poisoning you? Would you?”

 

Alex purrs and rubs his forehead against Charles’ cheek.

 

“I thought not.”

 

…

 

That evening, when Erik bends down to scratch Alex absently, he finds a tiny carefully printed note which runs something like this.

 

To Whom it may concern.

 

Alex stops by my place for lunch. Please tell me what brand of cat food he favors, because he’s rejecting most of what I give him in favor of deli meats.  

 

I’ve written down my handphone number so you can contact me case of an emergency. Or something

 

Thank you! :)

 

Charles

 

Stunned, he re-reads the note, noting the careful neat print.  A cool draft causes it to flutter in his fingers and it doesn’t take long before he spots the narrow gap where the window doesn’t quite shut. He walks over and tries to force it closed but the rusted tracks resist his efforts.

 

So Angel was right.

 

“You little scamp, mooching off the neighbors. I guess I’ll have to write back.”

 

…

  


To Charles:

 

Alex is not my cat. I was given a sample of something that Emma believes was inspired by the diet of some wild cat or other, but he hasn't really been eating that either.

 

Probably because someone was feeding him baloney.  

 

It would appear I’m about as much in the dark as you.

 

Regards.

 

PS: You’re too trusting with your personal details, I could be a psychotic killer for all you know. (I’m probably not. Not that you will ever find out.)

 

…

 

He’s not really expecting a reply after the last note.  Plus Alex seems friskier than usual, batting at his ankles and scampering off behind the curtains to hide.

 

It takes a lot of cajoling and nearly half a bag of treats before he’s finally managed to calm the cat down enough to pet him.

 

If his heart is beating faster than normal when his questing fingers finally discover the note, it’s probably from all the running around earlier.

 

Alex bats at him again and yowls.

 

“Will you hush so I can read this?” At that Alex curls up with a smug look.

 

“Good boy.”

 

…

 

Dear Person who-is-as-in-the-dark-as-I-am, aka the-psychotic-killer-in-denial,

 

Thank you for the reply. I am pleased to announce that I have had some success with chunky tuna.

 

For the record. I did not feed Alex bologna sausage, which seems to be, at least in the United States, spelled as baloney. Do you know how much fat and salt is in that?  Don’t even get me started on the preservatives. Needless to say, Alex will not be fed such nonsense in my house.

 

PS: I don’t think Emma would have entrusted her cat to a psychotic killer.  I think. *sweatdrop

 

…

 

Erik pets Alex absently as he purrs. When he stops, thinking, Alex jumps up onto the windowsill and makes as if to squeeze out.

 

“Huh. Again?”

 

If you’re going again you might as well take a message back.

 

Alex ignores him and it takes quite a lot more bribery with cat treats to get him to stay still long enough to write a reply and attach it.

 

“Seriously. If you eat any more you’ll be too fat to squeeze out.”

 

...

 

Dear Charles, the Secret Food Nazi,

 

My apologies.

 

On a separate note, I have noticed Alex sneaking back in through the window some mornings.  Does he spend the night with you as well?

 

PS: Who writes things like "*sweatdrop". Am I exchanging notes with a high school girl?  

 

Or, worse, one of the annoying Millennials?  We have one skulking around the office. Who moans and whines when asked to do anything vaguely resembling work.

 

…

 

Charles chuckles as he reads the note.

 

“Good grief Alex.  It’s a fine mess you’ve gotten me into…”

 

Alex looks at Charles for a moment before continuing to groom himself from atop the whirring laptop.

 

Well. I guess since that’s all the work I’m going to get done today.

 

As he looks over the note again, a slow smile spreads over his features and he resolves to pop by the university’s stationery shop after class.

 

…

 

After a rather fruitless search in several locations, a group of giggling students finally point him in the direction of a nearby mall.

 

“Michaels is awesome!  You have to check it out!”

 

Darwin gives him a very strange look when he finally gets back into the cab laden with art supplies but doesn’t comment.

 

...

 

Dear Apologetic one,

 

Be careful what you wish for.  

 

Well. Yes. As much as I hate to kiss and tell.  He does.

 

PS: My students must be rubbing off on me. Or maybe youth is contagious. The glitter is food safe, but I hope most of it stayed on the paper.

 

You could try being nice to your interns. I’m sure you were junior once, before you got all old, crusty and jaded.

 

…

 

Erik can’t help but smile at the loopy cursive script written in a hideously purple and magenta ink. The edge of the page is encrusted in pink and silver glitter.

 

Dear Tattle-tale,

 

My eyes!  I take that back. I’ll take all of it back if you will restrain your inner adolescent.

 

The glitter stayed mostly on the note. Although some got on Alex which he then rubbed off onto me.

 

Thank you for brightening up my life. Literally.

 

That was sarcastic. You did accuse me of being old crusty and jaded after all.

 

PS: How do you deal with the cat fur getting everywhere.  It sticks to my stuff even after I’ve laundered it.  

 

…

 

Dear Fabulous Furry one,

 

It helps if you run the laundry through the dryer first.  Wet hair tends to clump and stick. Or at least that was what I did when I used to have a cat.  

 

Snark anymore at me and I’ll send Alex to glitter bomb your apartment. We know where you live. Or at least he does.

 

PS: I just googled the salutation.  Not Furry. Good grief. You might be fabulous but definitely not Furry.  Unless you are. But you don't sound like one. I think.

 

This would be much easier if I knew your name.

 

Have to go. Sister is visiting.

 

…

 

“Charles! And this must be the famous escape artist Alex!”

 

“Good to see you too Raven. Actually, Alex was just leaving.”  Charles tries to shoo the cat out the window but Raven dodges around him. Alex, a little bemused by the attention he’s getting, walks curiously towards her and rubs his head on her leg.

 

“Aren’t you just the sweetest thing… awwww. Good boy.”  Charles tries to look nonchalant as Raven unfolds the note paper-clipped to Alex’s collar.

 

As her eyebrows go up and up till they’re all but hiding in her blond fringe, he decides that this would probably be a good time to excuse himself to the kitchen.

 

“Want a drink? I’m sure I have some alcohol or something…”

 

A delighted squeal makes jerk upright. His hands clench convulsively around the rims of wheels as he tries to propel himself faster. For a moment, it feels like he’s almost going to make it… Until he’s jerked back into the living room by an over enthusiastic sister.

 

“Charles Francis Xavier, you get back here right now and give me details!”

 

“It’s nothing really…” he demurs weakly.

 

...

 

Dear Charles,

 

It worked.  Thank you.

 

Erik.

 

Erik pauses, leaning back in his chair, his half eaten lunch sitting on his desk as he idly twirls his pen between his fingers, while figuring out what else to say.  Several exchanges and one rather splotchy mud stained reply later (it had rained one day while Alex was out and by the time he’d come back, the spare room looked like Alex had dragged most of the yard back in with him), he would have to admit he was enjoying himself.

 

“Someone’s in a good mood.” Sean comments from behind him, startling him so much that the pen falls to the floor with a clatter. He barely manages to fumble the half written note under some other documents on his desk before turning around to glare at the intruder in his cubicle. Then, he remembers Charles’ note and tries to twist features into a smile.

 

Judging from the confused look of fear on Sean’s face, the maneuver probably only had had limited success.

 

“I’m in a good mood because Emma’s returning which means I’ll get my spare room back soon.” He manages to clench out, mentally cursing Charles for having gotten to him so badly.

 

“Oh. Of course. Sure. Sorry to interrupt.” Muffled whispering breaks out as soon as Sean pops back behind the relative safety of the fabric cubicle wall.

 

“I tell you, something weird has gotten to Erik recently…”

 

Angel calls back at him. “You know he can hear you right.”

 

Biting his tongue to choke back a laugh, Erik tries to continue with his work. As his attention strays back to Charles’ note, he realizes, focus, at this point, is no longer an option.

 

Something has been bothering him about the last message. Ah.

 

PS: A temporary truce. No snark for now.

 

As a sign of good faith, I leave you my contact number.

 

Also, you said you used to have a cat?

 

…

 

Dear Erik,

 

Oh yes. A lovely grey tabby called Moira. But she passed away while I was hospitalized.  She used to climb all over my head too. I wonder if something about me reminds cats of a climbing tree.

 

After that, things became a bit inconvenient and I never got down to adopting another one.

 

This time share arrangement we have with Alex is good.

 

Charles.

 

...

 

As Erik sits at his dining table at home, wastepaper basket already overflowing with rejected drafts, it feels like he’s writing the hardest note he’s ever written in the past three weeks.  The storm that's been threatening to break all day has left him feeling tense and sticky with humidity.  Which is not helping his mood at all.  

 

Dear Charles,

 

It's probably because the cats can tell you’re a big pushover. Which prompts them to assert their dominance. Although these days Alex occasionally grooms my hair. Even if he is not actually my cat.

 

He pauses.  

 

Actually, I meant to tell you.  Emma’s coming back soon. So I’m afraid the timeshare arrangement is nearly over.  

 

He pauses again, puts down his pen, walks to the kitchen, returns with a cup of water, picks up his pen again and sighs. He fishes around in the bin, pulls out the least written on scrap of paper, smooths it out and scribbles several alternatives.  

 

Then composing himself, he picks up the pen and writes as neatly as possible.  

 

That said,  would you like to grab a coffee sometime?   I owe you for looking after Alex…

 

Regards,

Erik

 

…

 

By the time he finishes the note and affixes it to Alex’s collar, it’s raining in earnest.  He has half a mind to forbid the cat to go out tonight.

 

Because of the… inclement weather.  Clearly.

 

Alex meows at him and nudges at the glass, seemingly heedless of the rain and the darkness outside.

 

“You’re going out now? I’m sure he’ll live without your company for one night.”

 

Alex paws at the gap in his usual window, which Erik has had to temporarily seal off with duct tape and some plastic sheeting to keep the storm from inviting itself in.  He cries again, this time a little more frantically.

 

A crash of thunder makes both of them jump. Then Alex scrabbles again at the window, shoving at it with his shoulder, wailing pathetically.

 

“Ok fine. But… wait a bit.  I need to change.”

 

Alex pads into the room as he’s wrestling with his wellingtons and cocks his head to one side.  

 

“I’ll have you know I’m only doing this so the note doesn't get too wet. And this is never happening again.”

 

Alex yowls in response.  

 

“Also. We are never mentioning this to Emma.”

 

…

 

Standing in a torrential downpour,  a golf umbrella awkwardly balanced in the crook of his neck, trying to poke the plastic sheet, that he duct taped to his window earlier today, off with a branch, Erik wonders, and not for the first time this month, if he has indeed gone mad.

 

Finally, he manages to dislodge enough of it to leave a gap wide enough for Alex to squeeze through. The umbrella really isn't much use tonight. If not for his coat he’d be soaked.  

 

He looks at the gap. It sure looks big enough.

 

“You can come out now.”

 

Alex cocks his head at him. And then annoyingly enough, remains perched on the window ledge.  Then he starts to clean his face.

 

“You have got to be kidding me. You squeezed out from under my door, for crying out loud.  I’m sure you’ll fit through this gap.”

 

Alex continues grooming. Seemingly oblivious.  

 

“FINE.  I’LL MAKE IT BIGGER.”

 

…

 

Finally, most of the plastic is now off the window and sitting in what must be a growing puddle on the hardwood floor.  

 

“I HOPE YOU’RE HAPPY NOW.”

 

Alex eyes the gap, squeezes through through to the other side.  Then he leaps lightly to the ground and trots happily off into the night.

 

“Hey. Wait up!”

 

…

 

Alex trots over the yard and stops below a window two apartments down. The cat leaps onto the sill and peers through the glass.

 

Erik tries to look nonchalant.  As nonchalant as a person wearing a drenched coat, wellingtons and holding a golf umbrella for a cat can look.  

 

When he realizes that he’s also subconsciously started craning his neck to sneak a peek through the window, he hurriedly pulls back. But not before he’s glimpsed a comfortable looking, warmly lit room.  Which is positively packed, wall to wall, with books, messily arranged on floor to ceiling shelves.  A desk, covered in stacks of papers, has been shoved up alongside another window.   Somehow, despite the mess, the overall impression remains strangely welcoming.  

 

Then Alex leaps onto the next sill and chirps happily.

 

There’s movement from inside the room. And a crisp British accented voice exclaims in surprise.  

 

“You came?  But why? It’s pouring!  Wait there while I get a towel!”

 

Erik freezes and starts backing off slowly, resisting the temptation to turn around and scurry back to his apartment.  Sudden movements would probably draw attention and could easily be interpreted as suspicious.  And he isn’t a suspicious person at all.  

 

Clearly, he has every right to be out walking his cat in the rain.  Even if it's not his cat.

 

As he slowly steps backwards into the shadows, the mud squelching beneath his feet, he catches a glimpse of someone in a pale blue dressing gown, wheeling himself into room.  

 

The aforementioned towel is in his lap and, Erik notes, with the very peculiar clarity and astonishing lack of relevance that adrenaline enhanced vision brings, that said towel is fluffy, pink and has little paw prints on it.

 

From the way the cat greets him, this has to be Charles. A blithely oblivious Charles who babbles almost continuously as he towels Alex dry.  

 

Charles also has an unruly mop of dark curls, which stick out from his head in fantastic gravity defying directions, as if he himself had just come out of the bath.  

 

Charles, who looks altogether too young and ... baby-faced to even be legal...

 

He really should be leaving.  But somehow, he can’t seem to tear himself away…

 

…

 

“You really shouldn’t have come.  Although, come to think of it, you’re not nearly as soaked as…”

 

Charles looks thoughtful as he wheels himself towards the nearest window.

 

…

 

As the figure in the wheelchair draws nearer, Erik sidles backwards, further into the shadows of the yard.  His mouth is dry and his heart is racing.

 

He really has to be leaving.  

 

Right after this.  

 

Just as soon as Charles turns his back.

 

…

 

“Hey. Stop that. It tickles!  Alex!”

 

...

 

As Charles struggles with a playful Alex, Erik heaves a sigh of relief and slips back to his apartment.  

 

It looks like that cat may be useful for something after all.  

 

...

 

Dear Erik,

 

I dare you to call me a pushover to my face!  Ha. There are too many battles to fight and I have a limited amount of spleen to vent.  Or maybe I’m just getting old and stodgy. Heaven knows I’ve inherited the ancestral Tweeds.  Or maybe it's just the unfortunate side effects of being in academia.

 

Unfortunately, the rest of your note disintegrated.  I think I made out something about Emma but as for the rest, it simply fell apart when I tried to unfold it.  

 

PS:  I think Alex may just have eaten some of it.  I’m bringing him to the vet.

 

…

 

“You sure he’ll be alright?  He’s not like I don’t know. Going to be poisoned by the ink or obstructed by the paper or something?  You see, he’s not even really my cat and…”

 

“Charles. Alex is fine.  He looks fine. He moves fine.  He’s breathing fine. His tummy sounds fine.  He’ll be fine.” Hank sighs, pets the cat absently before turning to Charles, brow furrowed in concern,  “Question is, how are you? I mean, you disappeared completely off the radar after the accident. The last I saw of you was in hospital when I had to tell you that ... Moira...  And then nothing… So now…”

 

“I’ll admit that it took awhile to get…” Charles pauses, chewing on his lip, searching for a suitable word “re-adjusted, but I assure you, Hank.  I’m fine. I’ve even managed to secure a teaching job at the university. I’m just, taking it slow for now.”

 

“You know there are quite a lot of other people who would be there for you, if they could find the cell which you bricked yourself into right?”

 

Charles reaches out and rests his hand atop Hank’s.  “Thank you Hank. I realize that... now. But quite a lot has happened in the past month, and I’m not quite sure how it will end. But, if it all goes pear-shaped again, we’ll probably have to meet for drinks…”

 

“Just… Oh Charles.”

 

“Hank.  I promise.  I’ll call you before I drink all the scotch up myself.”

 

“You take care Charles.  And tell the owner”, Hank glances at Alex’s collar, “Emma, that her cat is fine.”   

 

...

 

PPS:  The vet says he’s fine.  So maybe I overreacted. How should I have known, Moira never did that before ...

 

...

 

Dear Charles,

 

How much was the vet?

 

…

 

Alex shuttles back and forth between the apartments, enticed into making more deliveries by the jiggling of assorted bags of treats, he is quite unaware that someone else across the road has taken interest in the proceedings…

 

“Daddy?  Can we get a cat?” Laura puts on her most award winning winsome smile. The smile, she thinks, would have parted seas, charmed birds off trees, melted rock...

 

Except that her father doesn't look sympathetic in the slightest. She probably should have used while begging for after dinner ice cream yesterday.

 

“A cat?  Why do you want a cat?” Logan replies gruffly.

 

“Just because?  I promise to take good care of it.  Please?”

 

“We’ll get one when you’re older Laura. End of conversation.”

 

…

 

Dear Erik,

 

Don’t worry about it. Really. Hank’s an old friend.   

 

…

 

As he reads the last note, An unfamiliar emotion coils in Erik’s gut. It’s unfamiliar and therefore uncomfortable. Which irritates and annoys him.

 

In fact, it annoys him so much that he can’t quite figure out what to say in reply to the last note.

 

It annoys him so much that he spends half the night awake and arrives at work with dark eye bags, a blinding headache and a foul mood.

 

It’s even more annoying when he’s finally back home and he finally puts his finger on what the uncomfortable feeling could be classed as.  

 

Because he’s realized that he is inexplicably jealous.  Which is irrationally annoying.

 

In fact, by this time, after stewing in it for most of the day, he’s so frustrated, he doesn’t even feel like bothering to assemble dinner, settling instead for breaking a bottle out of his emergency beer stash.

 

At least the beer is cold.  It takes the edge off his frustration off somewhat.  Enough to migrate to the couch to mope at least. After an indefinite period of time, Alex sneaks out of the spare room and butts up under his hand, trying to get him to pet him.

 

“Oh go away will you?”

 

The cat ignores him and curls up in his lap to groom.    

 

Something about the warmth relaxes him enough that Erik grudgingly gives in and pets Alex absently.  

 

Its at this moment that his fingers detect the familiar feel of a wad of paper under Alex’s collar.  

 

Huh?

…

 

Dear Erik,

 

My sister, has appraised herself of the recent events in our correspondence.  Read: Tortured it out of me.

 

As such, she wishes me to inform you that I am a royal idiot who wouldn’t know sub-text if it slapped me in the face.

 

Could we back the conversation up to just before I stuck my metaphorical foot in my mouth?

 

Charles

 

PS: This might need a coffee to sort out. My treat?

 

…

 

Raven sips at her coffee and stares out the window, scanning the crowd. Periodically, she picks up her phone and fiddles with it, scrolling desultory through Facebook.

 

The drain on her phone battery is frankly more alarming than her friend’s lateness.  When Angel finally does burst through the cafe door at a run, she’s down to the last 5% and wondering how she’ll survive the subway trip home.

 

“My phone’s dying and it's all your fault…”

 

“Don’t blame me. Someone dropped a ton of work on our team and did a runner. I barely sneaked off when I did and that was only because Erik agreed to hold the fort.  Which, has like, totally never happened before. But. Hey. Who knows.” Angel flops into the chair opposite before rummaging in her purse. “Here, use this.”

 

As a slim silver powerbank slides towards her, Raven sighs with relief and pulls out her own cable.

 

“Lifesaver.  Although. I wouldn’t have drained so much battery if I wasn't stuck here waiting for you…”

 

“I’ll get you another drink ok?”

 

“No. I’m just teasing.” Then Raven’s smile turns conspiratorial  “What’s this about your asshole supervisor secretly being a nice guy?”

 

“What’s this I hear about Charles finally finding someone?”

 

“I’ll tell you…If you get me a cinnamon roll.”

 

...

 

“So. Let me get this straight, the Erik who is looking after Emma’s cat, is also the Erik the project manager whom you regularly bitch about with me?”

 

Angel nods slowly.

 

“My brother’s been flirting with, and possibly, from his reaction when I read the note the other night, already developed a raging crush the size of the moon for, the and I quote “the asshole of the year” from your office?”

 

Another nod.  Raven’s eyes widen in agitation.  “Oh god. I told him to apologize to him.  Over coffee.”

 

She makes as if to leave...

 

“We have to stop this. Like now.”

 

As Angel lays a placating hand over her wrist to stop her, she says  “Chill a little Raven, I think Erik’s mellowed. Or something. He’s been in an unusually good mood lately. Except for yesterday. Which in the light of what you just told me, makes absolute sense.”

 

“Which reminds me …” a thoughtful look crosses her face “The asshole of the year owes me money and I’m going to collect it. With interest.”

 

As they both finish their drinks and get up to leave, a feral grin splits Raven’s features...

 

“I’m in.”

 

...

 

Dear Charles,

 

Apologies for the late reply.

 

But backing the conversation up to approximately where the rain dissolved the message.

 

Emma is coming back so she’ll be picking Alex in three days.

 

Coffee sounds great.

 

For all your alleged foot in mouth tendencies, I do actually owe you for feeding Alex. Read: Prepare to argue over who’s treat this will be.

 

Erik

  


He glances at the clock, noting with relief that it’s about the time Alex usually goes over to Charles’ place anyway.  Just as well he found the note when he did. As he tucks his reply under Alex’s collar, he tentatively pats him on the head saying “Good boy.”

 

“Go to Charles?”

 

…

 

As Alex makes his way to Charles’ apartment, a dark haired shadow emerges from behind a nearby tree.

 

The shadow scampers towards the cat and pounces, grabbing Alex triumphantly and staggering off.  Alex hardly has time to squeak in surprise before he is borne away into the night.

 

“Kitty! Won’t you come home with me kitty?!”

 

…

 

The girls pull up just in time to witness the catnapping.  

 

“Wait.  Wasn’t that Alex?”

 

“Shhh. Just watch where she’s taking him.”

 

“Men. I swear. Do we have to do everything around here.”

 

“Uh huh. Duh.”

 

…

A little while later, Raven picks up her phone.

 

“I’m calling Charles.”  

 

“No, wait.  I’m sure they’ll realize the cat’s disappeared. Anyway, it’s not like we don’t know where the kid went...”

 

…

 

Suddenly, Erik’s handphone rings. It’s been so long since his phone has rung that it takes him a while to identify the sound and a little more time to locate his phone.  Cursing as he finally fumbles it out of his work bag, he picks up to be greeted by a strangely familiar British accent.

 

“Hello. May I speak to Erik please?”

 

“Speaking. You are?”

 

“Charles. Alex’s other keeper.  Actually, has Alex left yet?”

 

“I sent him off, I don’t know.” Erik glances at the clock “Maybe half an hour ago?”

 

“It's just that he hasn’t turned up yet.”

 

“Oh.”

 

“I don’t think he usually takes that long to get here…  I’m going out to look for him.”

 

“Wait for me. We’ll meet out front? By the lamppost at the corner of the street?”

 

“Ok. See you in ten.”

 

…

 

“Where did you get the binoculars from. Hey is that mine?  Who said you could use my binoculars…”

 

“I was going to check out the Asshole of the Year. For my brother’s sake.  Also, who keeps a pair of binoculars in her glove compartment anyway…” mutters Raven grumpily.

 

“They’re my brother’s.  Because it’s his car. Don’t break them.”  

 

But Raven’s not paying attention anymore. Her pitch rises in excitement. “Shhh.  Look. They’ve met. And they’re coming this way.”

 

“You never told me your brother was in a wheelchair.  Or a Looker…” Angel makes a half-hearted swipe at Raven which she easily dodges… “Give me that! I want a closer look…”

 

“Be quiet or they’ll hear us. Is that … Erik? Oh my word…”

 

…

 

“He’s hot…”

 

Is the first and only brain scrambling impression Charles gets of the tall man standing under the streetlight wearing his jeans and jacket like a second skin.

 

The slightly saner part of his brain, nudges him into noticing that Erik seems equally dumbstruck, then elbows his speech center, before running away to hide.

 

“Er. I’m sorry I never actually told you about the wheelchair but I find mentioning it tends to permanently paralyze any possible relationships I could have and I was having fun corresponding via cat…”

 

Mentally he cringes at his babbling and tries to turn away from the increasingly bemused Erik, a bitter taste in his mouth…

 

“Maybe we should split up to search.”

 

“Wait… Charles…” A warm hand grips his shoulder and he looks up in confusion into a pair of earnest green eyes.

 

“I don’t mind. Really. And the idiots who minded, are just idiots.”

 

“Erik?” Charles’ heart pounds in his ears, and his face flushes hot.  

 

There could have been a sudden brightening of the scene, blue birds singing in the trees and possibly the appearance of a magical sparkly rainbow overhead.  There could even have been little fluttering cherubic Cupids aiming heart shaped arrows at their targets through a soft pink mist.

 

If they had not just then been interrupted. 

 

“Oi. The pair of dorks over there. A kid carried Alex off that way…”

“You owe me money Erik!”

 

The two confused men turn towards them.  

“Raven?”

“Angel?”

 

Raven rolls her eyes.  “Just go get the cat.” 

…

 

As they make their way across the street, Charles remarks “I can’t imagine Logan having anything to do with Alex.”

 

Erik arches an eyebrow at him quizzically.  “Do you know everyone on this street?”

 

“Well. Logan has lived here since. Like. Forever.  He’s also stubbornly refused to sell to any of the developers.  One might say… well.” Charles shrugs and laughs, “Logan’s quite a character that’s all.”

 

Erik glances up at the cottage wedged almost defiantly between shiny new apartment blocks and smirks.

 

They make their way up the neatly swept driveway and pause in front of the porch.

 

Charles eyes the steps dubiously.  

“I think I’ll stay here.”

 

Erik volunteers almost in the same instant.

“I’ll press the doorbell.”

 

...

 

As a hairy, bearded, brick wall of a man in a plaid shirt and jeans opens the door. He’s not very tall, but he’s bulky enough to fill the doorway, Erik swallows feelings of unease and says as calmly as he can...

 

“Hi, I’m Erik Lehnsherr,”

 

“Charles Xavier…” Charles chirps from the driveway. “We were wondering if you might have seen our cat?”

 

There’s moment of silence during which Logan glowers at Erik who scowls right back.

 

It also gives Erik the perfect opportunity to reflect on the string of questionable decisions that have led him to this point, to wit: standing on a whitewashed porch and staring down a grumpy old man…

 

He doesn’t regret the bits with Charles in though.

 

Suddenly, realization dawns and Logan barks out… “Oh. I think I know what this is about. Laura!”

 

…

 

As they’re returning to their respective apartments, with Alex resting in Charles lap for now, Charles suddenly speaks up.

 

“I feel a little bad about how that went.”

 

Erik says briskly. “Kids. They’ll get over it. Eventually.” Then looks down at Charles and scowls.

 

“Don’t give me that face. You do know that Emma’s going to come and take Alex back next week right?”

 

“So it’ll only be for a little while…” Charles looks thoughtful. Then his face brightens “She could come to my place.  Except that I probably need to tidy up a bit.”

 

Erik sighs, he has a growing suspicion where this is is going, but he’ll be damned if he lets himself be pushed into it without some sort of fight.

 

“I’ll think about it.”

 

…

 

“You know Chuck, I can’t believe you talked him into this.” They started out the evening in a perfectly civilized manner around Erik’s dining table but over the course of the evening everyone seems to squeezed into Alex’s room.

 

Ostensibly to stop the cat getting into further mischief.

 

Logan is sitting cross legged on the floor, leaning against the wall, a wide grin plastered on his face. A grin which may or may not have something to do with Alex having gone to sleep sprawled on Erik’s chest.

 

“I didn't have to. Because Erik is clearly a nice person.” Charles replies, rolling over to try to nudge the cat off Erik with a socked foot. Alex ignores his attempts and he shrugs helplessly. A gesture which earns him an annoyed eye roll from Erik.

 

“I heard that.  And I didn't do it for you. I did it so that someone would finally let me off the hook for inadvertently making a little girl cry.” Erik rumbles from under Alex who finally gets the hint, stretches and flashes him a look of displeasure before padding over to a delighted Laura.

 

“You malign me. I merely said that I was _uncomfortable_ about how the whole thing with Laura went. If _you_ decided to hold a potluck at your place as a sort of apology, that was _entirely_ _your_ _decision_ …”

 

“It must be because you planted the idea in my head…everyone knows I don’t do nice.  Angel. Back me up here.”

 

Angel, who has parked herself next to the water fountain, rolls her eyes at him. “Sure boss. Whatever you say boss.  By the way, Raven sends her regards and says Erik looks like he would make a great cat bed.”

 

As Erik fumes at a smirking Charles, Logan and Angel exchange knowing looks

 

“I just wanted a quiet weekend.” He moans aloud, brushing ineffectually at the fur on his top until Charles hands him a lint roller.

 

…

 

It's a relief when Emma finally sweeps in and takes Alex and all his kitty paraphernalia back out of his life.

 

If the spare room looks a little empty after they’re gone, its only to be expected.

 

...

 

When he comes back from work and isn’t immediately greeted by a yowling cat trailing destruction behind him, he consoles himself with the thought that at least he won’t have to sweep up any more broken bits and pieces.

 

…

 

He still meets Charles regularly for coffee. Well. Tea for Charles, and whatever abomination passes for coffee in the tea shops that he allows himself to be dragged to.

 

Tea then segues into chess. Where at least he doesn’t lose as often as he feared.

 

The sex is almost an afterthought in a practically perfect relationship. Even if Charles has some completely naive and ridiculous ideas about some things which should practically be common sense.  The loud arguments were inevitable.  Practically. 

 

Despite their differences, Charles is still possibly the best thing to come out of this whole cat episode.

 

In summary, things have pretty much returned to a nice new baseline of peace for Erik.  Until he gets an irate phone call from Emma a few days later.

 

…

 

“Erik Lehnsherr. What have you done to Alex? He eats nothing but treats,”

 

“I can explain that.”

 

“He sleeps on my bed…”

 

“That wasn’t my fault.”

 

“And he keeps sneaking out at night!”

 

“Oh.”

 

She goes on and on for so long in a similar vein that he kind of tunes out.

 

The next line however jolts him back to reality …

 

“Anyway, he was clearly pining so I’m giving him back to you…”

 

“What??”

 

“Azazel is making his way to your place with Alex and his stuff.”

 

“What??”

 

“Because Charles said you would definitely take good care of him…”

 

“Charles said what? EMMA?"

 

But she's already hung up on him.  

 

…

 

By the time his doorbell rings he’s worked himself into a lather and is all ready to give the next unfortunate person a piece of his mind.

 

“What the heck was Emma…”

 

Then the words die in his throat as he is confronted by a cheery pair of bright blue eyes looking up at him hopefully from a wheelchair….

 

He only notices a familiar orange cat sitting in Charles’ lap when Alex yowls at him.

 

It takes a while before his stunned brain registers that Charles has been blathering on about something all this time...

 

“And so you see. I thought we could perhaps try again? Alex can stay with me this time.”

 

“That won't be necessary. I’ve got a spare room.”

 

“Oh no. I’m partly to blame for the habits Alex picked up you see.” Charles says apologetically to Azazel, “You can take his stuff over to my place.”

 

“Charles. You’re being ridiculously stubborn.”

 

At this Alex jumps off Charles’ lap and pads into Erik’s apartment. Charles’ face falls and he murmurs sadly “I guess Alex has decided then?”

 

When Azazel is finally out of earshot in the apartment, Erik turns to Charles.

 

“Now that that’s decided, I’d be happy to keep the existing co-parenting arrangement.”

 

Charles looks at him archly, “A freudian slip Erik? Never would have expected it…”

 

“On the condition that you train Alex not to sleep on the bed. Because I don’t like to share.”

 

“Dear me, Mr Lehnsherr, I do believe you are propositioning me.  Whatever shall I do?”

 

As Erik turns away, Charles notices that the back of his neck is flushed crimson.

 

“I meant it!  About the bed!”

 

“Sure.  Challenge accepted.”

 

…

 

**Epilogue**

 

“Good grief.”

 

From the corridor outside his room, Erik wonders at the changes wrought to his apartment. The walls are still a cool grey which goes well with the steel and chrome finishes. The floors are still burnished, if slightly scratched and scuffed in areas. The rug, apart from the stained patch where the cat threw up, is still mostly intact.

 

The stand lamp has thankfully survived the cat. But they’ve added lampshades. Which soften the light, making the place look warmer.

 

It also goes well with the brightly colored ethnic throw draped over the sofa. Bought by Charles eons ago and but rediscovered recently when they were spring cleaning.  

 

There’s the motley array of assorted crockery that they’ve acquired. The stuff they use daily is mostly Charles’. His set is packed for when the guests come.

 

The most significant change to his peaceful life however, is also the main reason he’s unable to use his own damn bed.

 

The reason is furry, orange and sprawled belly up on Charles’ pillow. Periodically Alex’s paws twitch as if running in his dreams.

 

“Charles. It's been two months and Alex is still sleeping on the bed. What ever happened to your famous cat training skills?” Erik grumbles. But he can’t quite keep the undercurrent of amusement out of his voice.

 

“In his defense he doesn't do it on your side. So it’s a success as far as I’m concerned. So there.”

 

Charles graces Alex with a sickeningly adoring look before shushing Erik. “Shhh. I think he’s asleep.”

 

“You couldn’t possibly persuade him to sleep somewhere else?”  

 

Charles shrugs helplessly, then his smile turns conspiratorial. “You could come over to my place. Since _my_ bed isn’t currently occupied...”

 

Erik groans, but his lips are twitching.  

 

“I don't believe I’m doing this.”

 

“You were the one who didn’t want to share. The bed. Ok. That still came out weirder than I’d thought it would...”

 

…

 

Several hours later, as they lie entwined and sated on the sheets, only one word runs through Erik's mind.

 

Perfection.  

 

...

 

**Author's Note:**

> The author would like to state for the record that Alex is an unusually intelligent and incredibly fictional cat who is based somewhat on internet videos. Real life cat behavior is likely to vary.


End file.
